


the Journal of Jim Moriarty

by lordetargaryen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-The Reichenbach Fall, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:04:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1173942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordetargaryen/pseuds/lordetargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Moriarty journals the events of his life changing, and finds that he's lost in this world.  He learns about himself and about how far his love will go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January 24th, 2010

January 24th, 2010

Laying next to him is like dancing with the devil…I never know what he’ll do when he wakes, be it kissing me roughly up the jaw or screaming as his nightmares return. Moran is a luxury, his eyes a golden haze as he whispers my name.

“Jim…” he whispers, clutching my face with shaking fingers. His eyes are wide, brimming with the subtle insanity that I knew we had in common. No. I’m not insane. I’m bold. I’m passionate…he’s always said that. My sweet Sebastian whispers my name again as if it’s the only lullaby that can lull his aching thoughts. “I love you,” he whispers and my heart breaks.

On nights like this when he’s screaming and clutching me, the war echoing in his brain, I hold him as tight as I can. My lips press to his silver hairline, and I whisper promises.

We’re okay.

You’re okay.

It will be okay.

I have you…

I pepper his face with kisses and his fingers curl in my dark hair, damp with sweat and slick with product. He licks the tears from my face, and my gasps have never been weaker. I cry with him. I kiss his scruffy cheeks, and I hold his broken body. Never have I felt so whole. Never have I felt so perfect. Close. Needed.

Now I regret my choices. Now I want to be domestic. We could raise a child together…we could move in and be normal… but I’m far from ordinary.

They call me a “Consulting Criminal”. It’s description for a man who organizes and performs murder and crime. I make all of my fame and earnings from doing what I love the most; killing people. I’m the only Consulting Criminal in the world, and it pleases me…but I’m a murderer.

Murderers never have happy endings.


	2. March 11th, 2010

March 11th, 2010

Smoking cigarettes in the bathroom makes me feel like it’s school again, and I’m slipping away to lap at the smoke that floats into the purple haze. Smoking in boarding schools where the smoke turned colors as the light filtered through stained glass.

When I wasn’t in classes, I was kissing boys, turning them from heterosexual little prodigies to my own personal playthings. The teachers hated me, and I did too.

Smoking cigarettes with Moran is the simplest of times, lounging out in the backseat of the car with our legs tangled, fingers curled in the fabric of his coat. His lips touch my jaw, and I loosen, eyelids heavy with bliss as I stroke his hipbone with clever fingers. I want more, but the street is busy, and I can’t trust tinted windows.

“I found him,” I murmur into his hair, cigarette tossed aside as I breathe in the scent of his silver and gold hair. He smells of gunpowder, nicotine, and wine.

“Who?” he croaks, raising his eyes to meet mine, lips dry and bitten. He’s curious but not intrusive.

I laugh and crack the window, smoke escaping onto the streets of London. “Sherlock Holmes,” I say simply and prop my feet up on the center console, sighing. “He’s a “Consulting Detective,” sounds perfect now doesn’t it?”

Sebastian Moran simply stares at me, his eyes dark with emotion that he won’t let spill. He’s cautious and it worries me. He’s hiding something. “Oh.”

“Do you have a problem?” I try to keep the sneer from my expression, wanting to hit the man.

“You sound like you have a crush,” he mutters and looks out of the window, watching a woman pass by with arms filled with bags. He wants to kill her and I know it.

“I have the urge to make him dance,” I hiss, eyes lighting up with the flickers of my rage. “I have the urge to ruin him. He’ll ruin us if he’s left alone, Sebastian. He will destroy us and you know it. I will destroy him first.”

I leave the car then, and now I’m sitting in the folds of our covers, alone with the remnants of his scent. My moods can kill, and I know it. Someone is dying right now.

Kill me.


	3. April 1st, 2010

April 1st, 2010

He’s mine, and he will always be mine. Perhaps Sebastian was right when he said that I have a crush. Sherlock is ever so beautiful with his dark curls and porcelain jawline...oh the swoop of that cupid’s bow kills me. SCREW HIM. Oh, I would if I didn’t love Moran so much.

He found me. He found my trap,and he knows of my existence. I’m watching him more than ever, falling in love with his clever tricks and the way he succumbs to my own. I’m falling head-over-heels with my plans to exterminate that brain of his.

I almost killed that precious little pet of his, too. We met at the pool where I killed a boy so many years ago. I taunted the poor detective until I knew that he was, in fact, mine. I almost killed him. He had the audacity to point a gun at my head!! So, I strapped a bomb to his precious Watson’s chest just for giggles. You should have seen Sherlock scurry to save his precious doctor. I wanted to VOMIT.

Now, I have my web, and I have my lies and someday I’ll watch that insolent arse fall from his glory, watching him drown in a puddle of his own blood. I’ll laugh as his colleagues mourn and that poor doctor will lose his poor war-hardened mind. I’ll laugh because finally I can be safe. Sebastian can be safe.

All I want is to be safe.

I want to be warm.

I want to be held and loved.

I want to understand why my body doesn’t listen to me. Why am I crying? Why is my face hot and why can’t I breathe?? What’s wrong with me?!

Who am I?


End file.
